


Between Love and Honor

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Fiery Templar and the Fearless Assassin [11]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Arno in the next chapter, Bellec yay!, Evie is a damn good sharpshooter, F/M, Germain appears, HayZiio is already established, I'm having so much fun writing this, I've been wanting to do a WWII verse story for years, Nightwish - End of All Hope, Nightwish - Freeform, Note: Connor won't appear until after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Sabaton - Freeform, Sabaton - Primo Victoria, Sabaton - Wolfpack, Secondary-Connorline, Spies, WWII, WWII verse, female snipers, inspired by Liudmyla Mykhailivna Pavlychenko, listening to Sabaton while writing this is AWESOME, primary- Arno/Élise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris, 1940. </p><p>The Nazis have occupied Paris, and those seeking liberty and justice in the former French capital are driven underground. The night he's engaged, Arno Dorian witnesses (in secret) the kidnapping of his father by the Nazis. Driven by grief, anger and  desire to protect Élise, Arno joins the French resistance. </p><p>Arno, along with the help of his ragtag band of allies: a French born American actress, an old friend of his father's, a plucky British pilot, his sharpshooting sister and her Indian spotter, an American naval lieutenant, a British submarine captain and a member of the Italian resistance; will help liberate France and secure a future for him and Élise. [Hiatus]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End of All Hope

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story is set in the 1940s, there will be historical slang and stereotypes that may be offensive to some readers, reader discretion is advised.

_It is the end of all hope! To lose the child, the faith, to end all the innocence. — Nightwish_

* * *

 

_July 14, 1940 – Paris, France_

"…Remember," the woman said on the radio, her French had an American twang to it, "Général de Gaulle has called upon all _free_ Frenchman everywhere, to take up the fight against the Nazis. Good night, and _Viva la France!_ "

Arno turned the dial on the radio, shutting it off from the underground radio station. It wouldn't be wise for the Nazis or their Vichy puppets to find out that he was listening to illegal broadcasts. Humming the France nation anthem, Arno opened the draw of his desk and pulled out a small little box. He popped it open, the simple and elegant diamond ring glittered in the lamp light.

"Son?"

Arno snapped the box closed, swiftly shoving it into his pocket. "Dad," Arno said, surprised to see his father standing in the door way. "What brings you here?"

"Did you have the radio on?" Charles asked. "You weren't listening to that radical station now where you?"

"No," Arno replied graciously, "you know me. I'm a good boy, I keep my head down."

"Uh-huh," Charles said, a knowing smile on his lips, as he walked up to his son. "You are what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

Arno chuckled. "Try twenty, Dad."

"Twenty," Charles said, shaking his head. "My god. It seems like only yesterday you were two." Charles looked away, rubbing his forehead. "Your mother left when you were two."

"Dad," Arno began, but stop himself unsure of speaking. Instead he hugged his father. If felt strange, and his father felt so frail as if Arno squeezed him hard enough Charles would break. Charles patted his son on the back.

"I have something for you," Charles said, once Arno let him go. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver pocket watch upon a matching chain. "This belonged to your grandfather," Charles said, holding the watch up for Arno to see. "He gave it to me before… before he left for the Great War."

"Grandfather's pocket watch," Arno whispered, accepting the item. "For me?"

"Yes, I want you to have it. It's brought… well, it really hasn't brought me luck, but maybe it'll bring you better fortune that me." Charles gave his son a rueful smile. "You aren't planning on sneaking out tonight?"

"Dad," Arno chuckled, "I'm obey the curfew." Arno slipped the watch into his pocket, the chain through a buttonhole of his shirt that lacked a button.

"Just don't get caught, you hear," Charles said, a warning note in his voice. Arno smiled, shaking his head with a sight. He waited for his father to leave, and once he was sure Charles Dorian was safely away, Arno opened the window and slipped out of it and into the foggy night.

* * *

 

The streets were eerie and empty and Arno had to double back a few times to make sure no patrolling Nazis spotted him. He reached the Church of St. Raphael and slipped into the buildings shadows. If he leaned out far enough he could see the Eiffel Tower, dark now due to electricity being expensive and all funds must go to the war effort. The emptiness of the street unnerved Arno, and he blew on his hands to keep them warm. It was unusually cold for a summer night.

Nothing made a sound and Arno would jump, glancing about, whenever he heard something. He squinted at his watch in the pale light of the street lamp; the watch said it was eleven forty-five. "Damn it," Arno hissed, pulling off his hat and running his hand through his short hair. "Where is she?" He glanced around again.

He spotted her, trotting down the street in a light coat and a beret perched upon her head. He stepped out from the shadows as she neared him, a smile spreading across his face. "Élise," he called, just loud enough for his voice to reach her. His girlfriend smiled as she raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms about her tightly, hugging her with a kiss. "You had me worried," Arno said. "I almost thought you weren't coming."

"What?" Élise arched a brow, "And miss meeting you? Never." She kissed him again. "What's this?" she asked, fingering the silver chain.

"My father's pocket watch," Arno said, pulling it out to show her, "he finally gave it to me."

"After years of admiring it from afar," Élise giggled, "So? What's the reason you called me out here at midnight?"

"I didn't want it to be midnight," Arno said.

"I'm sorry," Élise whispered, resting her head on Arno's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. "But Father and I were discussing things."

"What kind of things?" Arno asked.

"The war," was all she said. Arno made a little noise of understanding. François de la Serre may disagree with the newly implement Vichy government and the Nazis, but he knew better to publically voice such ideals. Élise on the other hand, vehemently disagreed and would willingly take up arms and answer de Gaulle's call for all free French to take up the fight against the Nazis.

"He's only trying to protect you," Arno said.

"Don't tell me you agree with him, Arno!" Élise hissed, pulling back to look at her boyfriend. "I don't want to be this pretty, picture perfect housewife! Having babies and making dinners for a husband!"

"And you know I would never try to stifle your fire," Arno said, stroking her cheek. "I don't agree with your father, Élise, but I don't want you to get hurt."

"It's my life, Arno," Élise said, cupping his cheek, "it's mine to do with as I will." Her expression softened. "Like my heart," she breathed and kissed him. Arno eagerly returned the kiss, pulling Élise close and pressing her against the shadows of the church. "Arno," she sighed, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Élise," Arno said, pulling away. He mustn't let his passion consume him, not in the street, where anyone could walk upon them. He slipped his hand into his pocket, popping open the box and pulling out he ring. "I have a question for you?" he said.

"What?"

"Maybe… once things settle down, since it's not the best time, but…" Arno trailed off, flushing, glad that the darkness hid the sudden ruddiness of his cheeks. "But… will you consent to m-marrying me?" Arno asked, holding up the little ring.

Élise's green eyes widen. "Arno, where did you get that?" she asked. "Is that… a diamond?"

"It's just one diamond."

"How did you manage to afford something like this?"

"I've been saving up for this for a long time," Arno said, "I… do you consent?"

"Of course I consent, Arno!" Élise told him, smiling at him broadly. She held out her hand, allowing him to slip the ring onto her finger. "We… we have to plan the wedding and… oh, my father is going to be… thrilled! He always did like you," Élise said.

"Well, that's good to know. I'm glad my future father-in-law approves of me," Arno said, hand cupping the back of Élise's neck and titling her head upwards to kiss her. "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," Élise said.

" _Oi, du! Was machen Sie?_ " a voice called out from down the street. Arno and Élise cringed at the harsh guttural sounds of German. Arno pressed Élise and himself deeper against the shadows of the building. " _Was machst du nach der Sperrstunde aus?_ "

"Germans," Élise hissed. "Arno what do we do?" She watched as the pair of German soldiers made their way towards them as a steady pace, calling out to them in German.

"Uh," Arno racked his brain for a plausible cover, "mess up your hair," he said as he began undoing the first few buttons of his shirt and pulling out one side. "Act like we just…" he stopped and blushed. Élise blushed too, but vigorously nodded as she rumpled up her hair, she then fell into Arno's arms at such an angle he had to stumble out into the streets in order to catch her. They laughed, loud and forced, babbling in French just as the two soldiers came upon them.

" _Sprechen Sie Deutsch?_ " the soldier asked. Arno and Élise glanced at each other before shaking their heads. " _Sprechen Sie Französisch?_ " he asked.

" _Du dummkopf! Natürlich Französisch sie sprechen, sind sie Französisch!_ " his companion hissed, elbowing him.

"P-Pardon," the first soldier said in heavily accent French. "My French. _Klein_ good. What are _du_ doing past… uuh… _Ausgangssperre_ …" the soldier tapped his watch. " _Ausgangssperre?_ "

"Oh, curfew," Arno said, as if he was speaking to a slow child. "The word is curfew."

"Ja, ja," the soldier said. "Curfew."

" _Dummkopf!_ _Was denken Sie, sie taten?_ " the other soldier said. He then looked at Arno and Élise. "You get a warning," he said, his French clear and crisp as if he had been studying the language for several years. "Now you kids get on home."

" _Oui, oui, monsieur!_ " Arno and Élise said, giggling loudly as they walked off down the street, hand in hand. They reached the fork in the road, Arno pulled Élise back into the shadows. There was the drown of planes, German by the sound, overhead. Both looked up, but there were no bombing raids tonight.

"That was close," Arno said.

" _Too_ close," Élise corrected, tapping his nose. Arno playfully tried to bite it. Élise giggled and kissed him again. "Meet me at _Le Café Théâtre_ tomorrow at noon."

"Of course," Arno said, "I wouldn't miss our date."

"Good," Élise said, pleased. Arno kissed her once more before letting her go. He watched her vanish into the night. Heart light, he headed home.

* * *

 

Upon reaching his house, he knew something was off. He didn't expect his father to still be awake, but there was a light on and Arno didn't think it was his father's room. He entered his house, and made his way upstairs, taking pains to tread light as a mouse. The door to his room was open and he slipped inside, wishing he had a gun to defend himself with.

Sitting at his desk, near his precious radio was a black woman. Her dark hair pulled back in a severe looking bun. She wore men's clothing, though lady's gloves and hat, on closer examination, her clothes had a feminine flare to them, while still allowing her the freedom of movement pants allowed. "Monsieur Dorian," the woman said, in the same American twanged French from the radio.

"You're the woman… from the radio," Arno whispered, closing the door suddenly. She inclined her head. "What are you doing here? Why are you here? Who are you?" Arno asked. "You aren't working for the Nazis?"

The woman scoffed. "Please," she said, "if I were working for those damn krauts you wouldn't be talking to me right now." She looked at Arno. "As for my name, that's not important. The less you know about me, the safer we both are. Sit."

Arno wanted to protest, but something about this woman made him hold his tongue. In a way she reminded him of Élise, a woman use to breaking the rules men have set out for her. Arno sat. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to warn you," the mysterious woman said, "in about a half hour four German soldiers will break into your house. Their goal is to kidnap you and your father."

"What?" Arno hissed, fisting his hands. He made to stand up but the woman shot him a look and he stayed in place. "How do you know this?"

"Again, the less I tell you the safer you'll be."

"Alright," Arno said, slightly annoyed, "why are you telling me this?"

"Because, your father wouldn't believe me, and he has no desire to see France liberated. Unlike you," the woman said.

"How do you know what I want?" Arno asked. "You break into my father's house, hide in my room until I return and just assume you know I want France to be liberated?"

"You listen to my broadcasts," the woman said, "that alone tells me you want to see France liberated."

"I listen to your broadcasts, because all the other radio stations are controlled by the damn krauts! I wouldn't know what's going on outside of Paris otherwise."

"Regardless, you want to see Hitler defeated and the Germans out of France, right?" the woman said, and then inclined her head, looking at Arno with hooded eyes, "otherwise you won't be able to marry _doux_ Élise."

Arno felt his blood freeze in his veins. "How do you know about that?" he hissed, leaning towards the woman. "How? How do you know about that!"

"Don't worry," the woman assured him, her voice thick at honey and just as sweet, "I'm on your side." She glanced at her watch. "The krauts will be coming in five minutes. I suggest you hide. Hide somewhere they won't look."

"What about my father?" Arno asked.

"There is nothing you can do for him. Hide, live through this war, and marry Élise _or_ try to get your father to hide, get caught, and you'll end up dead or worse in one of the work camps in Poland."

"Can I at least tell him goodbye?" Arno asked, not wanting to leave his father.

"And risk getting captured? Do you really want to play that game Arno?" the woman asked. She stood up. "The choice is up to you, Arno."

"How did you get in here?"

"Through the window."

"And how do you plan to leave?"

"Through the window." The woman smiled, a glint in her green eyes. "My name is _Lina_." She said, stressing her name in such a way that Arno realized it was a code for something. For what he didn't know, didn't want to know rather. He watched the woman slip out the window an vanish into the night.

The Germans would come in less than five minutes. That didn't give him a lot of time to hide. Arno sprinted down the steps and into the kitchen. He stopped in the middle and stomped around, trying to locate those two loose floorboards. He found them, wedged them open and wriggled inside. "Damn it," he grunted sucking in his stomach, "must be getting fat. It's a lot tighter than last time." He managed to get his entire body in, he lied on his back, the floorboards following back into place.

It was dark and dank beneath the floorboards. Arno tried not to think of the tickling things in the darkness that he imagined were scuttling over his skin. He waited in the darkness until the booming knocks of the German soldiers sounded.

"Mr. Dorian! Mr. Dorian!" a French voice said. It sounded oddly familiar to Arno, but he couldn't be sure as everything was muffled by the walls of the house and floorboards he hid under. " _Mr. Dorian!_ " the Frenchman shouted again.

Arno heard his father come down the stairs. "I'm coming, I'm coming. What in the name of God, are you doing waking a man up at this unholy hour!" Charles grumbled to himself as he opened the door. Arno heard his father gasp, taking several steps back as the Frenchman and the Germans barged into his home. "I demand to know the meaning of you barging into my home! I'm a citizen of France! I'm a governmental clerk!"

"Charles Dorian," the Frenchman said, his voice as chilling as a medieval headsman's. "You are hereby charged with crimes against the French State and the Third Reich, for these crimes you are under arrest."

"What?" Charles gasped. "What crimes? I've committed no crime! I'm a loyal citizen of France!" Charles said, the Germans moved the grab him, but he shook them off. "I demand to know who is accusing me of such crimes and what supposed crimes I've committed."

"That," a voice said. The new speaker's voice was glacial, his French crisp and perfect, with the proper nasally flare. "You don't need to know."

"So it's true," Charles hissed, "Himmler's dogs are in Paris."

Arno heard a lot crack, flesh striking flesh, and rough angry shouting in German. _Dad…_ Arno dare not move or make a sound.

"Arrest this man," the SS man said. "Search the place for his son, I want him arrested too!"

" _Jawohl_ ," the German soldiers said, and they began to tear apart the house, smashing everything they could smash or pocketing anything they felt was of any value. Arno heard his father's weak protests as the Frenchman cuffed him and dragged him from the house.

Arno waited in the darkness. At one point the Nazis came over his hiding spot, muttering in German to themselves. Arno swallowed, hoping they didn't notice the difference in tone as they stepped through the kitchen. They didn't, took drunk on their spoils to notice. Eventually, they were called away by their commander, all of them gloating about whatever items they stole from the house. Even though they had left, Arno dare not move from his hiding spot, fearing they may come back. He waited a half hour after the Nazis left before pushing away the floorboards and wriggling out of his hiding spot.

His home was destroyed, the Nazis ruthless in the pilfering. Arno felt his throat tighten as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He walked towards the front door, the last place he heard his father. Arno wracked his brain for any plausible crime his father may have committed to warrant his arrest in the dead of night. He concluded that his father had done nothing wrong, and that it was just a conspiracy some rival in government had orchestrated to remove his father from the picture.

Arno glanced down at the broken picture frame; the glass smashed. It was a picture of him and his father, taken two years ago, before the war started, before everything changed. Arno knelt down, gently pushing away the glass and working the picture free. He stared at it, before folding it, and putting it into his pocket.

Arno got to his feet, took a deep breath and ran into the night, after the men that kidnapped his father.


	2. The Darkest Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This story is set in the 1940s, there will be historical slang and stereotypes that may be offensive to some readers, reader discretion is advised.

Arno ran through the dark streets, trying to find out where the Germans had taken his father. Tears threaten to spill over, but he rubbed at his eyes as he ran. He took a left turn, and spotted a small group of Nazis. He slowed, coming to a halt at the corner of the street. The shadows cloaked them, their darkness a cold comfort. Arno tried to quiet his breathing, but he wasn't use to running like a mad man.

They were talking in German, gloating about something by the tone of their conversation. _Those bastard! Those damn fucking bastards!_ Arno thought, gnashing his teeth. Weaponless, he'll figure out a way to beat the answers he sought out of them. " _Heil Hitler!_ " they shouted, saluting the Führer. Arno growled, before pushing away from the building and charging at the Nazis.

He didn't even make it halfway down the street before someone grabbed him, dragging him back into the shadows. "Let go of me! Let go of me!" Arno shouted, struggling against his captor.

" _Hallo? Was ist da?_ " one of the Germans called out, turning to look in the direction of Arno. " _Ist jemand da?_ "

"Shut up or we're both dead, pisspot!" Arno's captor hissed as he clapped a hand around Arno's mouth. Arno snarled, struggling. "Shut up!"

" _Hallo, jemand hier?_ " the German called out again, hefting his rifle up, as he walked down the street. Boots clopping on the cobblestone " _Hallo?_ " he called again.

Arno was dragged back into the narrow little ally between two buildings.

" _Klaus, was machst du da?_ " another German called.

" _Nichts… Ich dachte, ich etwas gehört._ "

" _Sie haben gehört, was? Eh, war es wahrscheinlich nur eine Katze._ "

" _Ja. Du hast wahrscheinlich Recht._ " Klaus lowered his rifle, shrugged before rejoining his companions. He glanced back once more at the narrow ally Arno and his captor had taken shelter in. Arno heard them walk on, laughing and talking to each other in German. Only when the sound of the soldiers had vanished did his captor let him go. He rounded on the man, punching him in the jaw.

"What the hell do you think you were doing? I just lost my one chance to find my father!" Arno shouted.

"Shut up, pisspot, and listen," the man said, rubbing his jaw. "You punch like a girl." Arno snarled and went to punch the man again, but his captor ducked away. "Your father is probably dead already, shot in the head and dumped in a shallow grave like a criminal."

"No," Arno whispered, refusing to believe he had lost his father already. "No, you lie! He's a French citizen! He has rights! A fair trail! There are rules!"

"This is war, pisspot," the man pointed out, "nothing's fair. There are no rules and if you aren't on board with the Führer's scheme, then you don't have rights."

"But this is still France!" Arno protested, glancing desperately over his shoulder at the directions the Germans went. "He's a French citizen!"

"No," the man said. "This is Germany now. France… there is no more France. Not so long as that monster lives! Now, I'm Pierre Bellec. I'm sorry about your father, pisspot. He was a good man. He was… my friend."

"You… knew my father?" Arno asked, regretting a little bit about punching him. "How?"

"He studied accounting under me," Bellec said. "Before I retired, before the war. Come, let's go. We have to get off the streets, into the catacombs."

"I'm not going anywhere until I get my father," Arno said, grabbing Bellec's arm. "And you're gonna help me."

Bellec snorted, pulling his arm away. "Pisspot—"

"My name is Arno."

"Charles is dead. Even if he's not dead now, he's as good as dead. Lina told me about—"

"Wait you know Lina?" Arno asked, caught off guard that the mysterious black woman may have more connections that he knew. "How do you know her?"

"Doesn't matter," Bellec said, "but if you insist on going after your father you put yourself and your girl in danger."

Arno's eyes widen and he felt his blood chill. In his mad dash to save his father from whatever horrors awaited him at the hands of the Nazis, he had forgotten about Élise. "Élise," Arno whispered, clutching his fist.

"Yes, her." Bellec said, "Now, let's go. We need to get to the catacombs."

"No, no," Arno said, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure Élise is safe."

"Pisspot," Bellec sighed. "we don't have time to go after your girl. We need to go now, before more krauts come." Bellec looked up when he heard the drone of planes. No whine of air raid sirens came, so he turned his attention back to Arno. "Let's go."

"No," Arno said and took a step towards the exit of the alley.

"Arno, it's not worth—" Bellec stopped when Arno bolted out of the alley. "Aw, fuck." Bellec took off after Arno.

Arno ran down the street towards Élise's house. He saw that the light was still on in her room, and he felt his heart leap into his throat, hoping that she was alright. He collided with the road suddenly, he felt Bellec's weight on his legs. "Damn it, pisspot!" Bellec growled, as Arno rolled onto his back, trying to kick the old man in the face. "Do you have a death wish?" he asked.

Arno twisted around, sitting up and Bellec tried to push him back down, but Arno elbowed him in the face. He heard a crunch and saw blood gushing out of Bellec's nose. Arno scrambled to his feet and ran, but Bellec tackled him again, pinning him down, his hand pressing against Arno's mouth. "Now, Arno, listen to me," Bellec hissed, "and listen to me good. Going to your girl right now is a horrible idea. See that car outside her house?" Arno nodded, spotting the car. "That's François-Thomas Germain's car. He threw his lot in with the bloody fucking cowards that run the government now. You are a fugitive now, Germain will hand you over to the krauts faster than lightning." Bellec let go of Arno's mouth.

"But Élise!" Arno protested, staring at her window.

"Will be alright, for now. I'll arranged a time and place for you two meet," Bellec said, "but right now we need to get out of here before the krauts or Germain come." Bellec eased his weight off of Arno. Arno bolted towards Élise's house and Bellec grabbed his ankle, pulling him back don. "Did you not here anything I just said?"

"I can't just vanish without telling Élise anything!" Arno protested, looking over at Bellec.

"How important is she to you?" Bellec asked, staring at Arno. "Well, pisspot? How important is this girl to you?"

"I'd die for her!" Arno hissed, shaking his foot. Bellec scoffed, a smirk gracing his face.

"Well," he said, "if you are that mad to throw your life away for one girl then meet me by Norte Dame after your down meeting with her."

"What?" Arno whispered, watching as Bellec let go of his ankle.

"Go pisspot," Bellec said, "unless you don't want to die for her." Arno frowned, before getting to his feet and sprinting into the darkness. Bellec shook his head, hoping the kid knew what he was doing. He stood and slipped into the shadows heading towards Norte Dame.

* * *

 

Élise stared at Germain as he explained why her father had to be taken. None of reasons Germain gave made any sense. "But my father… he… supported the government," Élise explained, "you know that."

"There is evidence that he secretly didn't, that he had secretly thrown his lot in with de Gaulle and his band of freedom fighters," Germain said, trying to explain it to Élise in a gentle manner. "You must understand—"

"Oh, I understand all right," Élise hissed, "my father was caught up in a witch hunt! Whatever he personally thought about the war and how our government reacted he kept to himself."

"Élise," Germain said.

"It's Mademoiselle de la Serre, monsieur," Élise hissed as she took a step back, narrowing her pretty green eyes at Germain. "What do you really want?" she asked. "Coming here in the middle of the night after my father—" Élise stopped and stared at the man in her house. "Why wasn't I accused of the same crimes?" she asked, finding it suddenly suspicious that she was spared. She knew the Nazis, especially the SS, were ruthless and took the entire family, even if only one was innocent.

"I provided evidence of your innocence sufficient enough for Monsieur Größel to be convinced of it," Germain said, and grasped Élise's hand, patting it with his other. "Besides, with your father gone… you're all by yourself."

"Not true," Élise replied smoothly, "I have Monsieur Olivier."

"Your father's butler? Hardly proper for a young woman of your talents and merits," Germain scoffed. "No, Élise, that simply won't do."

It was a sickening feeling, the realization of what Germain was implying. It crashed over Élise like an icy wave of dread. All she could think of was Arno. His face. His voice. His touch. The scent of fresh baked bread that had once clung to his clothes like the finest of perfumes. He may never be rich or have any grand prospects, but she loved him, and to Élise, that was all she needed. She'd weather whatever storm, so long as he was by her side.

"Me," Élise said, her voice trembling and fragile as a lark, "I was your reward." She stared into Germain's two colored eyes. "Größel promised me as your reward for getting rid of my father."

"Don't think of it in those terms," Germain sighed, stroking the back of Élise's knuckles. "Think of it as a proper marriage, I can introduce you to brilliant men that would… launch your career! You'll be the diva you always dreamed of, singing the great operas of Europe! I'll keep you safe and you'll never have to worry about the horrors of war."

"I don't care," Élise hissed, pulling her hand back. "I am _not_ a prize! I'm not some slab of meat that can be passed around like a bargaining chip!"

"I don't understand Élise," Germain said, "I protected you from the SS! Surely you can see that and—"

"I thank you, Germain," Élise said with tight graciousness, "but I won't marry you just because you saved my life. I already have plans."

"They will be implementing new laws soon, a woman without a husband or a male relative… please, consent to my proposal," Germain said.

"No," Élise said. "Now, get out of my house, Germain!"

"He's just a baker," Germain hissed, clenching his fists. "Or rather, was," he added. "Größel and his men have already gone to your precious baker's house and arrested both of them. The father is to be shot in the morning and your precious baker is to be sent to work in the Krupp factories in Essen. I doubt he'll even survive the war."

Élise's eyes widened before she slapped him. "Get. Out." Élise hissed. "Get out now before I kill you."

Germain rubbed his cheek, staring at Élise before grabbing her by her hair and shaking her. Élise yelped, trying to free herself but he grabbed her face, pinching her cheeks together painfully. Germain pulled her close. "You'll come to regret your decision, Élise," Germain hissed before letting her go. Élise stumbled back, gasping for breath and rubbing her face, watching as Germain left her house.

"Mademoiselle?" Olivier whispered, coming out of the shadows. Élise sniffed, looking at the butler.

"I'll be fine, Olivier," Élise said.

"If it's any consolation… I'm sure Arno got away. I may have never liked him, but I doubt he'll be caught so easily," Olivier said. Élise smiled weakly, as she headed towards the stairs. She placed a hand on Olivier's shoulder before ascending.

* * *

 

Élise entered her room and stared at her desk. She was writing a letter to Arno, even though they lived close enough to each other that writing a letter was pointless, but she had done this when she went off to study music in Vienna, and it was something they kept doing even after their school days were behind them.

Now… Now Arno was gone, as good as dead. Élise looked at the simple golden ring with its lone diamond sparkling upon her finger. Hours before Arno had proposed to her and she had joyously said yes, finally feeling that there was a light at the end of this long dark tunnel, that there _will_ be a time when France was France again, and not a part of Hitler's horrid empire.

It was gone now.

Élise sat on her bed, sighing heavily. "Oh Arno," Élise whispered. A few minutes later she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a tap on her window. She shut the light off and made her way to the window. Arno was clinging to the slim ledge, a bold look in his eyes. Élise stared at him before looking out to the horizon, it was starting to lighten, though dawn was still a few hours off. She looked down at Arno again. "Arno, what are you…" she stopped when he climbed into her room.

His hand found the base of her skull, cradling it lovingly as he pulled her close and kissed. Élise felt her heart lighten, swelling with hope. Arno pulled away. "Élise, don't cry, it's going to be okay, Élise. I promise," Arno whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No," Élise said, "no Arno. It's not that."

"Then what?"

"I thought you were dead or… at least in a position that I'll never see you again," Élise whispered, cupping his face, his stubble rough against her palms. "Germain told me what happened."

"Germain?" Arno asked, eyes widening. "Does your father—"

"Gone." Élise said, "An SS and some soldiers with a translator came and took my father away. Germain managed to convince this SS captain to spare me."

"Damn it," Arno muttered. "My father was arrested for crimes I know he didn't commit."

"It's Germain," Élise said. "He's using his position as… whatever bloody bureaucratic position he has now, to take everything he felt was denied to him because of my father," Élise looked into Arno's eyes, "including me."

"You?" Arno forced out in a harsh whisper.

"Yes. My father has always supported my… _radical_ ideals. He refused to allow Germain to pursue me. Now… Germain wants to marry me."

"Did you tell him—"

"He thinks he has you dealt with Arno!" Élise protested. "My father, you, everything…" Élise shook her head. "You should go."

"I'm not leaving you, Élise," Arno protested, pulling her close. "I love you Élise, and I would never abandon you."

"Oh Arno," Élise breathed, squeezing him tightly. "I love you too, but," she looked up at him, "I need some time. Time to figure things out."

"Figure what out?" Arno asked.

"How to contact the resistance of course!" Élise said. "Do you think I'll just sit idly by and let Germain have his way? Do you think I'll just sit idle while Hitler takes France from her citizens?"

Arno chuckled, pressing a kiss to Élise's forehead. "No," he said, "of course not."

"So, you must go. Run, hide, do whatever it is you need to do to survive."

"Come with me then," Arno said, "I know… I know how to get to the resistance."

"No, Arno," Élise said, cupping his face. "Listen to me, I can't leave. I must pretend to be the good girl that supports the government."

"But Germain will make you marry him," Arno said, holding on to her. Élise shook her head.

"He won't do anything without my consent, at least for now," Élise said. "Trust me Arno."

"I'm worried Élise," Arno said, "you can be reckless."

"Oh and like you aren't?" Élise chuckled. "Who was it that stole the apples from Old Man Foché's orchard, hmm?"

"Alright," Arno chuckled, "I'll admit we both are bad influences on each other."

"I can handle Germain, you go and help the resistance, I'll figure out a way to contact you when it's safe." Élise said and kissed him before pulling away and undoing her necklace. The red cross glittered in the pale light coming from the window. Arno took it.

"Your mother's cross?" Arno whispered, turning it over. " _Intellectus in fiduciam_?"

" _Trust in understanding_ ," Élise whispered, "my mother always believed that knowledge is the key to unlocking power." Élise wrapped Arno's fingers around it. "Keep it," she said and cupped his face with her other hand, "keep me close."

"I'll come back for you Élise," Arno said, stealing another kiss, before taking a step back. He put the necklace around his neck, tucking the cross beneath his shirt. "I promise," he said.

"I know, but go now, hurry!" Élise said, pushing him towards the window. They shared one last kiss before Arno slipped through the window vanishing. "Please…" she whispered to the night, "stay safe."


	3. Shattered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This story is set in the 1940s, there will be historical slang and stereotypes that may be offensive to some readers, reader discretion is advised.

_London, England — July 15-16, 1940_

Evie hated this. The daily drudgery, locked in a stuffy little room feeding papers into a machines, the harsh smells of the chemicals used, and the insufferable heat of the bodies closed together. She liked puzzles, she liked figuring things and had a head for numbers, but she wasn't a cryptologist. That was men's work. She just did the drudgery that the men were too good to do. She couldn't even talk about what she was doing. Everything was secret as they intercepted codes from the Germans and Italians.

At five o'clock her shift ended, and she gratefully exited the building, making her way to the bus stop to be transported back into the heart of London. "Miss Frye," a voice called out. Evie narrowed her eyes. She didn't need to be dealing with any more people. "Miss Frye, a word please."

Evie heaved a great sigh. "Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts," Evie muttered to herself as she turned and headed towards the speaker. "Don't think how much I want to strangle you."

"Miss Frye," said Lucy Thorne in a clipped voice. "I've gotten wind from some of the other ladies that you have a particularly nasty bite to your bark."

"Oh really?" Evie said, her voice just as strained as she continued to force her smile. "I'm sure they are mistaken. My brother says I'm just the sweetest girl he's ever met."

Thorne snorted. "Indeed." She looked at Evie. "Miss Frye, we must all do are part to help King and Country defeat Hitler. I have to wonder about your dedication to the cause if you are this nasty to your fellow women."

"Nasty?" Evie reeled back. "I _am_ not nasty! I speak my mind and if these soft-shelled ladies, can't handle it, then a pox on them! And don't ever question my loyalty to King and Country! If women were allowed on the front, I would be there in a heartbeat! My brother is a member of the Royal Air Force! I want to see Hitler defeated just as much as you do."

"I highly doubt it," Thorne muttered.

"You doubt it?" Evie felt her brow twitch.

"Evie!" Pearl Attaway said, grabbing Evie's hand before Evie did anything she regretted. "Evie, dear, come along now. You must simply tell me what your charming brother has been up to!"

"Let go of me, Pearl!" Evie hissed, squirming free of her friend. "I have some unfinished business to take care of!" Evie said and marched up to Lucy Thorne. Evie pulled her fist back and punched Thorne in the face. "That's for questioning my loyalty. Don't bother looking for me tomorrow, because I quit!" Evie spat and marched off, walking passed a stunned Pearl.

The bus ride was a sullen affair. "Did you really have to punch her?" Pearl asked. Evie glared at the back of the head of the woman in the seat in front of her, broodingly silent. Night had fallen, and the clouds hid the stars and moon. "You know she's going to make everything miserable for me now, since we're friends."

"Quit," Evie said.

"What are you going to do now? Work as a secretary at your father's officer?" Pearl asked.

"I'm going to try to get to the front," Evie said. "If Jacob can risk his life for his country, then surely I can too."

"Women aren't allowed to joined the army or the air force."

"I'll convince them I can join," Evie said, looking at Pearl. "I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty. I've hung out with Jacob and his friends. I'm not afraid of hard work, and I don't have the 'weak constitution' that everyone things a woman has!"

"Evie, think this through," Pearl said. "They will never put a woman on the front. The closest you'll ever get is probably a medical unit, and you'll be a nurse."

"Better me being a nurse in the battlefield then me being stuck with the likes of Lucy Thorne at Bletchley Park!"

"I think you should just go back and apologize to Lucy tomorrow," Pearl said.

"No," Evie said, a look of epiphany on her face. "I'll be a sniper! I've won nearly every award for marksmanship in the country! Well, all of them actually, that allowed women to compete. I'll go tomorrow to the recruiter and show them my awards and _demand_ they make me a sniper! I'll bring Jacob too! He'll vouch for me!"

"A sniper? That's rather dangerous. You'll be in the thick of it," Pearl said.

"Exactly," Evie said, a mad glint in her green eyes. "I'll be actively doing something to protect Britain."

"You were doing something to protect Britain. Intercepting intelligence from the enemy is important."

"I need to get my hands dirty, Pearl. I can't just sit around pushing papers!" Evie said. "I'm going to do it."

"Why didn't Jacob become a sniper?" Pearl asked.

"Jacob doesn't have the patience for marksmanship," Evie said as the bus rumbled into London. It was dreary, any building that didn't need lights were dark, even Big Ben wasn't lit. There was a tightness in the atmosphere, as if the entire city of London was holding its breath, waiting for the drone of German planes and the high pitch whine of air raid sirens to suddenly sound.

For Hitler to finally turn his eye upon the British Isles.

The bus rumbled to a stop. The doors creaked open and the ladies disembarked. "Well," Pearl said before parting ways with Evie. "I hope you'll reco—"

"No," Evie said. "I'm not going to reconsider my choice; I'm going to be a sniper." Pearl sighed, inclining her head.

"I wish you luck then," Pearl said, and hugged Evie. "Good luck Evie, and stay safe."

"I will," Evie said, squeezing her friend, "and good luck to you and Godspeed." Evie pulled away, glanced at Pearl one more time before heading off towards home.

* * *

 

The door was unlocked when Evie reached it. She felt the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she opened the door. She didn't have a gun, and she wished she carried one with her. "Hello?" she called, only to mentally kick herself for calling out. What if it was a criminal and she just gave away the element of surprise. She took a deep breath, grabbed an umbrella by the door and closed the door as softly as she could.

A sound came from the kitchen. Evie turned, heading towards it, raising her makeshift club high over her head. There was a figure in the fridge. "God damn, is there nothing edible in this entire house?"

"Jacob?" Evie gasped, eyes widen in surprise. Her twin lifted his head.

"Oh, hello, Evie," Jacob said, pleasantly. He closed the door to the fridge and walked up to her, wrapping her up in a big hug. "Been wondering when you'll be home, old girl."

Evie belatedly returned her brother's hug. "When did… I thought you were… why are you here?"

"I'm on leave, well only for a few days," Jacob said, "then it's off to France to give those Gerries the what for!" Jacob smiled. "How's your work at Bletchley? Cracked any codes?"

"No," Evie said and then began to unbutton her coat. "I quit."

"You what?" Jacob gasped, staring at his sister. "You quit?"

"Yes," Evie said, a pleased smile on her face. Jacob wasn't the only one that could make spur of the moment decisions. "I'm going to go to the recruiter tomorrow, with my marksmanship awards and _demand_ they train me as a sniper."

Jacob stared at her for several long moments, brown eyes wide in surprise. "You're a mad clot, Evie," he said. "Really, really mad."

"I am not!" Evie protested. "I'm sick of staying here in London! I'm sick of feeling like I'm not doing anything Jacob!"

"You're doing plenty Evie," Jacob said, "trust me, the front is no place for a woman."

"Jacob!" Evie screeched. "I thought you, of all people, would support me in this!" Jacob sighed, rubbing his forehead as he walked off. "Don't walk away from me, Jacob! You're my brother! My _twin_ brother!"

"I know Evie," Jacob said, plopping down on the couch in the living room. He tapped the radio, but didn't bother to turn it on. "And… it's not that I don't think you can do it, it's just… that, at least at Bletchley I knew you were safe."

Evie smiled, sitting next do to him and taking his hand. "I worry about you too, Jacob. I worry that I may never see you again, every time you go off and fly, I worry. I wish you had the attention span for cryptology."

"You know me Evie," Jacob said, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm not one for sitting by and figuring out. I'm one for action."

"I know," Evie said. "And I want to be in the thick of it, I may not be as impatient as you, but I do crave action."

"Alight," Jacob said. "Tomorrow we'll go to recruiter and see if your daft plan will actually fly."

Evie's face lit up. "Really?" she asked. "You really will support me in this?"

"Of course sis," Jacob said. "Now, let's go get your metals."

* * *

 

The sergeant stared at the Frye twins. "You want to _what?_ " he said, baffled. Evie felt her brow twitched and wondered why Jacob had to get dressed up in his more formal uniform for this.

"I want to sign up to be a sniper," Evie said and set her box of metals and awards down on his desk. She took the lid off the shoebox and dumped the medals and ribbons down on his desk. "I've won every major marksmanship award this country offers for women sharpshooters. It's a personal hobby of mine," Evie explained. "I'm not afraid of the training or the fact that I _will be_ the only woman and—"

"No," the sergeant said.

"What?" Evie shrieked. "No?"

"Yes, that's what I said miss, _no_. I'm not signing up some bloke's sister to be trained as an army's sniper! Do you think I'm that dumb?"

"Listen here, _sir_ —"

"Please," the sergeant said, "I work for a living."

"Fine," Evie snipped, " _sergeant_. I am willing to prove to you that I _am_ capable of being a sniper. Give me a gun and a target and I'll prove to you that I can shoot the head of a Jerry at a hundred yards or more!"

"The answer is no," the sergeant said.

"What's the problem here sergeant?" a man asked, he had an angular face and reminded Evie of an angry rat, his black mustache curled up at the corners.

"Staff Sergeant," the recruiter said, "this bint here wants to join the army."

"You do?" the man said.

"Yes," Evie said, squaring her shoulders. "I want to be a sniper; I have brought evidence that I'm qualified for the task."

"She's mad Staff Sergeant," the recruiter muttered.

"What's your name?" the staff sergeant asked.

"Evie Frye," she said. "This is my brother, Captain Jacob Frye."

"Aah," the staff sergeant said, looking over Jacob. "You're the crazy bloke that's flying about and giving the Jerries a right bloody hell in the skies."

Jacob laughed. "That's right," he said, trying to sound humble but failing. "The Luftwaffe hate me. I'm one of the top aces we have."

"And I wouldn't have any other way. Pleasure to meet you," the staff sergeant held out his hand, "Crawford Starrick," he said as Jacob grasped it.

"Jacob Frye," Evie's brother said. Jacob dropped Starrick's hand and the staff sergeant put his hand on Jacob's shoulder and led him out of earshot of Evie and the recruiter.

"Is she really as good as she claims?" Starrick asked.

"Oh yeah," Jacob agreed, "my sister is bloody damn good with a gun."

"I know she wants to join, but the army is no place for a woman," Starrick said, "as her brother you should… understand that."

"Evie is… a lot tougher than her appearance gives her credit for," Jacob said, "plus she and I did everything together as kids. She was my lieutenant of my gang, the Rooks. Back when I was still on civvy street."

"Interesting, well… maybe a demonstration is in order, if she can hit a target from two hundred yards, I'll hang the rules and get a waver for her and talk to the general."

"She won't be pleased to hear that," Jacob said.

"Best I can do sir," Starrick said. "It's rather unconventional for a woman to be harping to get into the army."

"Evie is rather tomboyish," Jacob agreed, before heading back with Starrick in toe, to where Evie and the recruiter were waiting.

"Well?" Evie asked, "did you convince him?"

"I want you to demonstrate your skill, Miss Frye, see if it's really worth my time in pulling strings and cashing in on favors to get you into the army. Tom," Starrick called to a man walking pass, rifle slung over his shoulder. "Your rifle and get a target set up in the field."

"Uh, alright," Tom said handing over his rifle to Starrick before running off to get the target set up. "How many yards, staff sergeant?" Tom asked.

"Two hundred," Starrick said.

"Ha! That's child's play, make it six hundred yards," Evie said.

"Evie!" Jacob hissed, grabbing his sister by the bicep, "that's nearly the limit of reasonable accuracy! Do you want to fail?"

"No," Evie growled, yanking her arm away, "I want to prove to them that I can hit a target accurately at that distance!"

"Evie, don't try to play the hero, here. Just do it at two hundred," Jacob said.

"No," Evie growled. Jacob shook his head.

"I hate it when you get like this," he muttered.

"Six hundred, then Tom," Starrick said. Tom nodded and went off to complete his task. Evie snorted like a bull as she accepted the rifle. She checked it over, familiarizing herself with the rifle. "You ready?" Starrick asked.

"Yes," she said and followed Starrick to the field, Jacob in toe.

* * *

 

Evie stared at the target, a bright orange pumpkin atop a bale of straw. "That, Miss Frye," Starrick said, "is your target. If you can hit it, I'll get you in."

Evie took a deep breath before getting on her belly, spreading her legs for stability. She rested the rifle on the ground and stared at the pumpkin. She never shot anything at six hundred feet. The most she ever did was four hundred and fifty, and she always used her own rifle. She was suddenly nervous and the looming clouds that hinted at rain didn't help her calm her nerves either. "Whenever you're ready Miss Frye," Starrick said.

Jacob squatted next to her. "It's still not too late to back out. I'll talk to the brass at Bletchley Park and get you to work on the encrypting and creating the cyphers."

It was a tempting offer, and she almost took Jacob up on her, but she steeled herself and knew _proving_ she was worthy of this position would be a long shot. "No," Evie said, "I'm doing this Jacob!" She brought the rifle up, cradling the butt in the pocket of her shoulder. She squinted through the sight, making adjustments until the pumpkin was clear and in focus.

Evie waited.

She took a breath, willing her heart to stop its nervous tattoo against her ribs. She looked at the pumpkin through her scope once more, caressed the trigger, before applying pressure to the curve bit of metal.

The gun went off with a bang.

"Pity," Starrick said, as Evie raised her head. "I was hoping you'd be impressive," he looked at her, "better luck next time Miss Frye."

"Wait!" Evie shouted, freeing the spent shell from the chamber and loading a new one. "I can do this!"

"You missed, you are at the limit of that rifle's accuracy range," Starrick said, "take your brother's offer. It's much safer for you at Bletchley Park and—"

"I said _wait!_ I _will hit it!_ " Evie snarled, fire in her eyes. She wiggled down against the grass and made the adjustments she realized she failed to consider on her first shot. Evie closed her eyes, lined up the sight again with the unharmed pumpkin. "Aim small, miss small," she whispered to herself, something her father had taught her when he was teacher her to shoot. "Think of the rifle as an extension of you, just like your hands and arms. You are it and it is you." Evie opened her eyes and squeezed the trigger.

Down by the bale of straw, Tom jumped as the pumpkin exploded.

Starrick stared in amazement. "That was bloody brilliant Evie!" Jacob said, as Evie got to her feet. She felt weak and shaky. Jacob hugged her. "Bloody fucking brilliant!"

"Well, I'll be damned," Starrick said, he looked at Evie. "Well, Miss Frye. Welcome to His Majesty's Army."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
> 
> Evie's story for this tale is inspired by Liudmyla Mykhailivna Pavlychenko a Ukrainian Soviet sniper during WWII and one of the most famous female snipers. In trying to find any famous British or American female snipers, I kept getting all the famous Soviet female snipers, so Evie is taking a historical and artistic liberty.
> 
> We'll get back to Arno and the French resistance in the next chapter (after Evie gets her spotter).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please leave reviews to leave your thoughts. They encourage me to continue!
> 
> Save an author; leave a review.


	4. La Résistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This story is set in the 1940s, there will be historical slang and stereotypes that may be offensive to some readers, reader discretion is advised.

_Paris, France — July 16, 1940_

Shay Cormac took the oilskin wrapped cylinder, and tucked it into his belt. "Make sure it gets to Churchill," Aveline said, a serious note in her voice. "That intel is vital."

"Heh," Shay smirked, "ya know me, Aveline. Have I ever steered ya wrong?"

Aveline's expression softened. "No, you're the best courier we have," she said. Shay nodded and pulled on his cap. At a glance nobody could tell he was the captain of the British submarine, HMS Morrígan; he looked like a peasant farmer. "There's a horse waiting for you outside the city."

"Affirmative," Shay said, hopping into the boat. He discharged the oars, they made a soft _splunk_ sound in the water, that seemed much too loud in the gloomy dawn.

" _Bonne chance_ , Shay," Aveline said, "and Godspeed."

Shay chuckled as he began to row. "I make my own luck, Aveline," he said, tipping his hat in farewell. "Godspeed."

Aveline watched him go, a heavy heart in her chest. She hoped that Shay reached the British shores safely. "Aveline," Gérald called, running up to her. "Bellec is back, he brought someone."

"He did?" Aveline asked, turning to face the dark mouth of the tunnel. Gérald gave a nod, and Aveline briskly walked down it, boots crunching little pebbles with each step. Slowly, the light of the rising sun vanishing as she headed deeper into the catacombs that created a subterranean labyrinth beneath Paris. She descended three flights of steps, before entering a large cavernous space. Lights strung up, a switchboard with a telegraphist manning the straight key; the steady beepbeep-beep-beepbeepbeep of Morse code was nothing but white noise to Aveline.

In another cavern, there was a printing station set up, another held food and other vital supplies like arms and ammunition. Men and women, boys and girls, anyone brave enough to answer de Gaulle's call to rebellion and liberation were here. Sticking out like a sore thumb was the green kid that was standing besides Bellec.

The same young man she told to either to hide or die. Aveline walked up to the pair, head held high. "Well, Pierre, I see you brought us another chump," Aveline said.

"Cut the shit Aveline." Bellec snarled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He blew smoke in her face, which she waved away with annoyed hand. "You're the one that made contact with him. I told you to leave the pisspot alone."

"So?" Aveline asked, glancing at Arno.

"Clot nearly got both of us killed. He insisted on seeing to his homework," Bellec said as he eyed Arno. "Sometimes you're too impulsive."

Aveline flushed. "I was hoping he'd forget her and do the right thing."

"I'll never forget _or_ abandon Élise!" Arno hissed, getting into Aveline's face, "And I did do the 'right thing', I came here, didn't I?"

"He'd die for her," Bellec quipped. "Useless clot he is."

"I still think he can help," Aveline said, arms folding over her chest. "Though I'm starting to regret even warning him, if he's going to be this much trouble."

"If I had known sooner, I would have been able to save my father!" Arno said. Aveline rolled her eyes.

"Listen," she said, "We don't have time for your pity party, you either buck up, and get with the program _or_ Pierre'll hand you back to the krauts."

"I need to protect Élise," Arno said, "she is the only person that matters to me now. I'll help liberate France, because in doing so I'll keep Élise safe."

"Best you forget her, pisspot," Bellec said. "This isn't a game of soldiers. This is war."

"Pierre's right," Aveline said, "we have no need for a lovesick chump like you in the _La Résistance_."

"I can fight," Arno hissed, "don't you need every able body man willing to sacrifice himself?"

"Are you willing to sacrifice yourself?" Aveline asked. Arno balked at the question, taking a step back. "Thought not. Listen, I can get you to Britain, you'll be safe there, maybe even get passage to America. I run the underground courier system for the resistance, it should be no problem."

"What about Élise?"

"I told you pisspot," Bellec said, blowing smoke in Arno's face, "forget about her. She's thrown her lot in with the Vichy. You'll find a pretty girl in Britain or America for sure."

"No," Arno said, "not Élise. I know her. She'll never consort with those bastards! I know Élise! She wants to see France liberated!"

"She does?" Aveline asked, arching a brow. She chewed her lip, thinking that a person on the inside would vital in gaining information. She glanced between Arno and Bellec.

"She'll fight," Arno said, "She doesn't want to see France in the hands of that bastard in Berlin."

"Are you sure?" Bellec asked, eyeing Arno. "I won't risk Aveline contacting her if you aren't sure."

"I know Élise," Arno said, staring into the grey eyes of the cranky old man. "Trust me. She'll fight."

"It could behoove us," Gérald said, coming to Aveline's side. "I mean…er… having Mademoiselle Élise… er… feed us information from within the inner circles of the government officials here in Paris."

"Gérald does make a point, Pierre," Aveline said.

"Exactly," Arno agreed, pouncing on the chance to convince Bellec and Aveline of recruiting Élise. "She'll be perfect. She already has connections to government officials through her father and, she knows François-Thomas Germain, who works with the SS. Vital information can flow between them."

"François-Thomas Germain?" Aveline whispered. Bellec shook his head.

"Yes."

"This could prove fruitful…" Aveline whispered, tapping her lip.

"Germain was the reason his father was arrested by the SS in the first place. I have no doubt Élise's father was arrested because of Germain to. She'll probably only decide to work with us out of revenge," Bellec countered.

"Élise will help!" Arno insisted. "Please, talk to her."

"Aveline, I won't have you risk your neck for a girl that has questionable loyalties."

"I can do it Pierre," she said, "besides it could be a key channel into the inner workings."

"We'll see," Bellec said. "In any case, there's a Germain supply shipment due to enter Paris tonight. Pisspot, you'll be with me." Bellec said, removing his cigarette from his mouth. Aveline looked at the two men.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Aveline asked.

"Of course," Bellec said with a grin, "if he betrays us, I'll shoot him."

"Lovely," Arno said, "glad to see that I have at least one vote of confidence." He watched Bellec walk off, barking orders to people.

"He lost his son to the Germans," Aveline said, "he was killed… trying to defend France."

"I'm sorry for his lost," Arno muttered, "but that doesn't mean he can be a bastard about it to others."

"That's just Pierre," Aveline said with a shrug. "I'm Aveline de Grandpré, aka Lina." Aveline offered her hand to Arno.

"Arno Dorian," Arno said, taking Aveline's hand and shaking it. "He wasn't serious about shooting me, was he?"

Aveline smiled. "Don't betray us," she said, before walking off, Gérald beside her as they discussed the workings of the resistance's information network.

"Arno!" Bellec called. Arno rolled his eyes and followed Bellec.

* * *

" _Nein, nein, nein! Sie hören mich… ja, ich weiß… nein, warte! Der Fürher wird diesen Sie inkompetent Fick hören!_ " Größel shouted into the phone before slamming the receiver back into its cradle. " _Schieße!_ " he rubbed his temples. He heard a knock on the door and glanced at it. "Come in," he shouted, hoping that for once someone would have good news. He smiled sadly when he saw who it was. "Fräulein de la Serre, what a pleasure to see you, please sit," Größel said, gesturing to vacant chair.

Élise sat. "Thank you for seeing me, Monsieur Größel," Élise said with a smile. "I'm sure you understand why I'm here."

"I imagine it's about your _vater_?" Größel said, picking up his pen and going through some reports.

"Yes," Élise said. "I was hoping I could see him. Before… before judgement is past."

Größel looked up at her then before giving her a sad smile. "I'm sorry Fräulein de le Serre, but I cannot allow that."

"Has he been… killed?" Élise asked, clutching her hands to her breasts. "Oh, please… tell me he hasn't been killed."

"I'm sorry but I cannot discuss the state of those convicted of crimes against the Reich," Größel said, "you must understand."

"I understand that you are refusing to allow a loyal citizen of France and the Reich, from seeing her father! I am no spy Monsieur Größel, _but_ ," Élise said, "I am a daughter, and I would like to say goodbye to my father properly before you ship him off or kill him."

"What makes you so sure what we're going to kill him, Fräulein de la Serre?" Größel asked, a blond brow arched. "Do you want me to arrest you?"

"No," Élise said, her voice tight, "but I would hope that you had some honor as a gentleman." Élise held her tongue on the rumors surrounding the SS and their sanguinary methods. "Please, I all I wish is to speak to him. I'm sure Monsieur Germain has spoken of me."

"He has," Größel agreed, "he says you are rather stubborn and a spitfire. He also speaks of your beauty," Größel looked Élise up and down, "I'm pleased to note he wasn't mistaken."

Élise gave the German a tight forced smile. "I'm spoken for," she hissed. Größel chuckled.

"Of course," Größel agreed. "I will take you to see your father, they haven't loaded the prisoners onto the train yet."

"Train? Why does my father need to go on a train?" Élise asked. "I told you last night, my father has done nothing wrong."

"Do you want to join him?" Größel asked. Élise paled. "Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut, _kleine Schlampe_ because if you don't you'll join him."

"Fine," Élise said, narrowing her blue-green eyes.

" _Gut_ ," Größel said, before making a phone call. Élise couldn't follow the rapid German, but he hung up shortly after. "Follow me," Größel said, walking around his desk to the door. Élise rose and followed the German. Größel grabbed her once she reached the door, pinning her against it. "You _will_ tell me or Herr Germain everything when your sweetheart comes to you."

"I have no idea wha—" Élise yelped when Größel tightened his grip on her wrist.

"I think you do," Größel said. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? One of my agents reported a man leaving from your window a few hours after we left. He works for the Resistance I'm sure, and I want to know what those _schweinehunde_ are up to and _you_ will tell me or I'll put you on the same train your father is getting on to, do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Élise swallowed. She could smell Größel's cologne and his grip on her wrist was painfully tight. "Please," she whispered, "let me go."

"I suggest you choose your loyalties carefully Fräulein de la Serre," Größel said.

"Please," Élise said.

"Do we have a bargain?" Größel asked. Élise squeezed her eyes shut.

"Yes," she breathed, "yes, I'll spy for you!" Élise forced out. Größel let go of her wrist, a smirk on his thin lips.

" _Das ist ein gutes Mädchen_ ," he said mockingly as he patted her cheek. He opened the door and walked down the hall. Élise hung her head and followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft 
> 
> Dedication: Thank you to all the brave men and women that have served, fought and died during WWII, we are humbled and honor by your noble sacrifice.
> 
> Ever since I read a WWII Zutara fic many, many moons ago (sadly the fic was unfinished), I've been wanting to do a WWII fic. Yet, I've never found the right set of characters to do this fic for.
> 
> Then Arno and Élise came along and I had this idea of Arno being a part of the French resistance and Élise a part of the Vichy government yet secretly working for the resistance and there is a romance between them.
> 
> I knew I had to write it. I knew I had found my perfect set of characters.
> 
> The Frye Twins, Henry, the Kenways, Shay, Aveline and Ezio, will also be in this fic. This is primarily an Arno/Élise fic with Connorline on the side.
> 
> It's also a spy fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, because I'm really excited to start this fic. I won't forget EKGTCR, but I have a block with it and I really wanted to write an Arno/Élise fic.
> 
> Save an author, leave a review.


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